Passive
by taralkariel
Summary: Dr. Crane is shot by Rachel, and is carried away by his horse. What happens after that? CraneOC
1. Prologue

Prologue July 11

Batman flew, or glided, over the deserted streets. He was on the infamous island known as the Narrows. It had been almost a month since the inmates in Arkham had escaped. There were still a few missing, including the head psychiatrist, Dr. Crane. Or the Scarecrow, as he called himself. The police could search the rest of the city without much trouble, but the Narrows were too dangerous to be searched properly. Thus, Batman had decided to search the island himself. Thought it might have been a better use of his time to investigate the new threat calling himself the Joker, some recent occurrences made him decide to search here tonight.

The reason for this feeling was remarkably quick in showing itself. He heard a blood-curdling scream, followed by a gunshot. He wasted no time in turning toward the sound.

Upon rounding a corner, he spotted a man who had pinned a woman to the wall of an alley. He didn't know where the gunshot had come from, but swept down at the man regardless. Knocking him down, he turned to the woman. She took one look at him, then screamed again. She promptly fainted. Batman was vaguely aware of another man coming up and catching the woman, but he had turned his attention back to the first man.

The man also stared at him in terror. He was wearing an orange jumpsuit, the kind that inmates of Arkham usually wore. Before Batman could do anything, he leapt to his feet and started to run off, stumbling occasionally.

"Let him go, Mr. Wayne," a pleasantly cold, and familiar, voice said. Bruce stiffened. The man looked up and smiled his usual, close-lipped smile. His icy blue eyes regarded Bruce from behind frameless glasses and strands of dark hair.

"Crane!" Bruce said, forgetting to mask his voice. Although, it was apparently no longer necessary.

"I knew you'd come eventually," Crane continued resignedly, looking sadly at the woman he held in his arms. He gently set her on the ground and looked up at Bruce.

"What have you done to her?" Batman demanded angrily.

Crane frowned. "I? I have done nothing," he said sharply. "It was that _criminal_," he hissed, "who attacked her. And _you_ who scared her. I don't suppose you'd hold off killing me long enough to take her home?" he continued more quietly.

"Why would you do that?" Batman asked suspiciously.

Crane forced a smile. "It's the least I could do."

Bruce watched the doctor's unfeeling face for a moment. "And what makes you think I'd trust you to help her?"

"Why not?"

"Maybe because you're a corrupt psychopath?" Bruce snapped.

Crane smiled genuinely. "From one point of view, perhaps. In the meantime, I hardly think it right for you to leave her on the street in the cold just so you can argue with me," he pointed out.

"You know where she lives?" Bruce asked guardedly.  
"Yes."

He sighed. "Wait here. I'll get my car, and we can take her then. But you had better not try anything," he warned.

"Of course," Crane replied pleasantly.

With a frown, Bruce hurried back up onto rooftops. He went as fast as he could back to the main island, where his car was parked. He pressed the button to open the roof, then slid gracefully in. He hadn't gone far, but it would take a few minutes to drive back.

Upon reaching a cross street near the alley where he'd left Crane, Bruce leapt out of the tank, and hurried to find his prisoners again. He couldn't see either the doctor or the woman, and was sure they had run off. But no, there they were. Crane had moved himself against the wall, and was holding the woman once more. Cradling would perhaps be a better word for it, but Bruce couldn't bring himself to think that the cruel doctor might have some empathy left in him. Crane opened his eyes at Bruce's approach, and regarded him without expression.

"Was traffic bad?" he asked conversationally after a moment.

Bruce didn't reply, merely frowned a little. He sighed again, wondering if he was letting compassion go too far. "Come this way," he said. He watched, fascinated, as Crane rose gingerly, still carefully holding his companion. A few snide remarks entered Bruce's head, but he decided it was best not to provoke the doctor, since he was cooperating. Also, bothering a sadistic psychopath did not seem like a good idea.

Batman turned and walked back to his vehicle. Crane followed slowly, rarely looking up. Whether he was looking at the lady in his arms, or merely at his feet, Bruce found it impossible to tell.

He cleared his throat to get the doctor's attention, and was met with a glare. "I can hold her while you climb in," he offered.

Crane glance alternated between the woman and Bruce a few times. "Fine," he said at last.

Bruce took the unconscious woman from Crane's arms solemnly. The latter quickly climbed into the tank with nonchalance. Bruce carefully returned his burden, then climbed into the driver's seat. "Hold on," he advised.

One very fast ride later, Crane had directed them into another alley near an old apartment building. Still in the Narrows, but a little closer to the main island. It was dangerous here, but Bruce figured he would just watch Crane closely, and hopefully keep from stepping into a trap.

"She's coming around," Crane said quietly, interrupting Bruce's thoughts. Bruce nodded as he opened to roof.

"Jonathan?" a faint voice said, startling Bruce.

"Shh… you're safe now. We're taking you home," Crane explained gently.

"We?" she asked, sounding more concerned than Bruce would have imagined her to be. She had, after all, only just regained consciousness.

"Mr. Wayne kindly offered to give us a ride," Crane said coolly, looking at a Bruce.

"Oh," she said, much more calm now.

"Come on," Bruce said, interrupting the interesting conversation. He wondered how Crane, and apparently this woman, knew who he was. And what he should do about it. And why he inspired more fear in the woman than Crane did.

"She's on the third floor," Crane said.

Bruce got out to look around for an ambush. He saw nothing suspicious, only a deserted street near an old apartment building. Shrugging, he returned to his tank, and was able to hear the tale-end of another intriguing conversation.

"I'll be fine. There's nothing you can do, Jenny," Crane was saying. Both of them fell silent immediately when Bruce returned. Interesting, he thought. The good doctor is indeed capable of not only reasoning but also compassion as well. Bruce wondered what had happened in the past month that had so changed Crane. As well as how much this woman, Jenny, was involved in the transformation.

"I'll take her," he said to Crane, who nodded his assent. Bruce felt her tense as he lifted her clear. The doctor hurried out as well, and took back his burden. Bruce couldn't help but feel a little relieved. He didn't know who this Jenny was, but to get along with Crane, she had to be a criminal. Or at least insane.

He allowed the man to lead the way up the rickety stairs. He kept a close watch on all of his surroundings, looking for any movement. The street remained deserted. All of the windows they passed were dark, and Bruce became more suspicious.

"Does anyone else live here?" he asked.

"A few people. She likes her privacy," Crane added. The woman said nothing.

They reached a door where Crane stopped. "Jenny, if you would?" he asked politely. She reached out and unlocked the many locks of the door. "Thank you."

Crane then pushed the door open and walked in calmly. "I think it would be best if we let her sleep in her room while we talk. I assume we are going to talk? Or would you just prefer to kill me right off?"

Taken aback, Bruce stared at him. "Why would I kill you?" he inquired.

With a cold smile, Crane said "Because no policeman is going to come here to arrest me. So it would be less of a hassle for you to just get rid of me."

"Oh."

Crane watched Bruce for a moment, then shrugged. He turned and walked to the other end of the apartment, and opened a door which apparently led to her bedroom. He seemed to be saying something to her as he walked. Bruce walked closer to hear better.

"Don't worry, I will," Crane was saying.

"Jonathan," she said softly. Bruce didn't know if it was a warning or a plea.

Crane sighed. "I know… good bye," he said softly, then bent to set her on her bed. He paused to kiss her forehead gently. Bruce froze, feeling a little embarrassed at his intrusion. Crane rose, and turned to Bruce without showing any surprise at seeing him. "Shall we, Mr. Wayne?" he asked, motioning toward the living room.

Hoping to keep the surprise from showing on his face, Bruce nodded. They walked in silence back to the couches in the front of the apartment. Crane sat down on one of them serenely. Bruce followed suit, though a little less calmly.

Crane looked expectantly at Bruce. "Who is she?" Bruce asked, instead of answering the questioning look from the doctor.

The latter looked at the former sharply. He then looked back toward the bedroom. "Her name is Jeanette Ducard," he said quietly.

"Ducard?" Bruce demanded.

Crane smiled slightly as he faced Bruce again. "Yes. She is the sister of one of Ra's al Ghul's favorite wives, whose name he borrows when necessary."

Batman reacted quickly. He grabbed the doctor by his suit coat and shoved him against the wall. "Where do her loyalties lie, Crane!" he demanded.

Crane continued to smile. "Mostly? With herself. Often with her _sadly_ widowed sister," he said mockingly. "Occasionally with her late brother-in-law. And rarely…" He paused, then looked away. "And rarely, with me." He fell silent, pensive. He seemed to be looking at something only he could see.

"Is she as devious as her brother is?"

"No. She is as clever, but has very little ambition beyond her own comfort. She is not a threat to you or him," Crane replied in monotone.

"How can you tell?"

"He hasn't killed her yet."

Bruce frowned, then sighed. "Will I regret saving her?"

Crane smiled returned, this time self-mocking. "That depends on what you plan to do with me."

Bruce's frown changed into a glare. "What should I do with you?"

"Well, it would be safest to kill me. She'd either kill you or give up. Probably give up, since she is occasionally on your side. Returning me to my own asylum would work as well, though she may try to get me out. Putting me in prison would be a death sentence, even if I didn't get capital punishment. She thinks all the inmates would kill me," he explained. "Or…" he paused.

"Or what?" Bruce asked, knowing he wouldn't like the answer.

"Or you could let me go. I doubt I would give you reason to regret it," he added quickly. He looked almost worried as he said it.

"I take it you're a reformed man?" Bruce asked sarcastically.

Crane smiled coldly again. "In a way…"

"Start talking, Doctor. You'd better make me believe you," Bruce said after a pause. He wondered again what had gotten into him.

"It's a long story, Mr. Wayne. Perhaps you would like to make yourself comfortable?" he suggested.

"Fine," Bruce replied, sitting back on the couch. "Just start talking."

Crane sat down as well. "Of course."


	2. Wake Up

2. Wake Up

Dr. Jonathan Crane woke up, confused. He didn't know where he was, or how he had gotten there. On second thought, he couldn't remember much from the past few days. He remembered poisoning Miss Dawes, and waiting for the Batman to come. But not what happened after that. He must have blacked out at some point. Which led him to assume that he must be in Arkham. Or perhaps the police station. He gauged his surroundings, careful not to appear awake. He did not want anyone to know that he was conscious until he had figured something out.

He was on a couch. That was odd. It wasn't the sort that was kept in his office; it was the kind that people kept in their living rooms. In fact, he felt like he was probably in someone's home. That was even stranger. He had a terrible headache, and his cheek throbbed dully. Why did his face hurt? He thought back, wondering. Something… something about Miss Dawes… A Taser! She'd shot him with a taser because… because of what? Because he had been terrorizing her. It was starting to come back. He'd lost his mind for a little while, and gone gallivanting off on someone's horse. Odd. And she'd shot him with her taser.

So, had the plan worked? He didn't think so. But where was he? And how had he regained sanity? The Batman must have defeated Ra's al Ghul before he could get the toxin into the air. Which was alright. The plan to destroy the city certainly wasn't one that he had been aware of before. He would never have agreed to that. At least, he was pretty sure he wouldn't have. It wasn't particularly beneficial to him. So, clearly, someone had found him in the street and taken him into their home. But why? And who? Was it merely some citizen who didn't know who or what he was? Or was it one of Ra's thugs? Or even Falcone's thugs?

Well, he reasoned, he was alive. So, if they had intended to kill him, it hadn't worked. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. He tried to think back and remember everything he knew from the past few days, in hopes of figuring something out. Nothing. Well, he certainly wasn't going to learn anything by just laying there.

He opened his eyes. His guess was correct; he did appear to be in the living room of a small apartment. Of course, his view was composed chiefly of the ceiling, but he could see parts of the room as well. He rolled slowly onto his side, wincing at the pain in his head. Perhaps he had fallen off the horse and gotten a slight concussion. He also noticed a small pain in his arm, but that was not an immediate problem, so he didn't dwell on it. Another problem was the fact that he didn't have his glasses. But he could see well enough. He noticed that his couch was perpendicular to the wall, where another couch was. There was a small television set in the corner opposite them. To the right of the television was the front door, which was dead bolted a few times over.

He started at that. It meant, of course, that who ever lived here was certainly inside. They weren't all locks that could be opened from the outside. So, he wasn't alone after all. Since he was in the front of the apartment, he had no idea how big it was, or where his host, or hostess, might be.

He decided against lifting himself enough to look over his couch. He was too tired to meet anyone now, especially since he would have to evaluate whether that person was a friend or not. And whether they knew who he was. He would have to formulate a person to pretend to be later. Just in case. But that could wait. He was tired, and his head ached. Now, it was time to go back to sleep. Saving his skin could be dealt with when he woke. It wasn't as though he had anything to do with his life now. He was certainly going to have his license revoked, and would either be a patient in his own asylum, or in jail for the rest of his comparatively short life. So, there wasn't really anything worth getting concerned over. Might as well sleep, he thought to himself.

When he woke again, it was darker than it had been before. He looked immediately at the locks, and saw that some were not fastened. It was likely that the owner was gone, then. Jonathan couldn't decide if that was good news or not. He could escape, but he had no where to go. And he might find an ally if he stayed. The outcomes of either choice were impossible to determine. So, he decided to take a look around.

He rose gingerly, his head aching terribly at his every movement. In addition, he was sore most everywhere. He didn't know if that was the result of lying on the couch, or of whatever he'd done after falling off his horse. Presumably he'd just lain in the street until he'd been found and brought here. Wherever "here" was.

Jonathan looked around as soon as he was steady on his feet. Beyond the living room was a small, and quaintly furnished, kitchen, as well as a door which he assumed was a bathroom. Past the kitchen was an office of some sort. It had an old oak desk with a computer on it, as well as a disorganized stack of papers. All of which were covered with dust. On the opposite wall of the office was a door out onto a balcony. The narrow apartment was walled in after that, with only a closed door leading to the bedroom.

He decided that the desk was probably the best bet in order to discover where he was. There would certainly be important documents there, hopefully ones with the name of the resident on them. He walked carefully in the direction, trying not to make any sudden movements. He lifted a hand to the wounds on his face, touching them curiously. Perhaps the electricity had something to do with his return to relative sanity. He took stock of himself. He felt only a little differently than he had before. He was still calm and collected all the time, still cold and distant, still cunning and clever. But no longer having a reason to be. He didn't know if the fact that he was truly alone made his desire to frighten people less, or if it had actually gone from him. He supposed he'd find that out later.

He shook his head gingerly to clear his thoughts. Pulling out the desk chair, he sat down to search through the papers on the desk. Most of the papers were magazines and newspapers, with articles circled and cut out. He couldn't find any similarity between the articles. Here was one about the Batman, another about Bruce Wayne. One about some robbery in Asia. Another about himself. That one made him a little nervous. Some of the articles were more mundane, detailing museum exhibits and other things like that. Some of these had another article attached, which detailed the theft of that item.

Suddenly, Jonathan heard something. It was a key at the door. He froze, indecisive. Should he hide? Or should he return to pretend to sleep on the couch? Well, there was hardly enough room to hide. But perhaps the closet next to the bathroom. He rushed to it, ignoring the dizzying pain in his head. He opened the door, and shoved himself in amongst the winter coats, closing the door behind him. He held very still, scarcely daring to breathe.

He heard the front door open, followed by the clicking of heels on the tile. The door closed, and was locked. But the person did not move beyond that. He waited, feeling fear as he had not felt it for years: real fear, not induced by chemicals. Then, the footsteps began to move forward, followed by a pleasant female voice.

"Dr. Crane? Where are you?"


	3. And Face Me

3. And Face Me

Jonathan started. The woman knew who he was. But what did that mean? She hadn't had him arrested, or, presumably, taken to any of the people who would certainly be looking for him. So why had she taken in a madman? She could be working for Falcone or Ra's… There was no other reason for her to take him home. None he could think of, anyway. Well, he could think of a couple, but he didn't believe that they were very realistic.

"I know you're still here. There's no point in hiding, Doctor," she said gently. She didn't seem to be making any attempt to find him. Odd. She just kept talking, trying to convince him to come out. Well, he thought, there wasn't any reason to hide if she knew he was there.

He opened the door and stepped out. To his surprise, she was standing right in front of him. Her shoes were still near the door, he noticed. She smiled up at him.

"Glad you decided to come out, Doctor. Very wise of you," she added. He was struck with the thought of a cat playing with a mouse. Of course, she did look rather catlike. She had wild brown hair that seemed more like a mane. She also had large green eyes that seemed to laugh at him. She was almost a foot shorter than him, and quite pale. Also like a cat, she exuded self-confidence.

She frowned at him, raising an eyebrow. "Do you talk?"

He gave a cold smile. "On occasion."

"Hm," she replied.

They stared at each other in silence. It occurred to him that he was still wearing the remains of his straight jacket over his suit. His suit coat and glasses were gone. He didn't know what had happened to his mask or his briefcase. He was also aware that he was a little the worse for wear: his hair was disheveled and his clothes were in tatters. Not to mention the scars on his face from the Taser, and multiple other bruises on him. Her clothing, on the other hand, was immaculate, though not fancy. She was wearing dark jeans and a vibrant green blouse, with a trench coat over them. She looked him up and down, clearly analyzing him as he was analyzing her. He decided to end the silence, which was becoming rather uncomfortable.

"May I ask for the name of my hostess?" he inquired politely.

She laughed, startling him. "You may," she said, grinning. Then, she cleared her throat and looked serious. "Jeanette Ducard, at your service. To an extent," she added, her grin returning.

Jonathan frowned. "It's a pleasure, Miss Ducard," he said after a moment.

"I'm sure it is," she replied mockingly. They frowned at each other for another minute or so. Then, she said, "Well, you must be hungry. You've been sleeping on my couch for almost a day. I don't know how long you were on the street," she added, looking surprisingly apologetic.

"Thank you," he said coldly.

She smirked, then led the way to the kitchen.

It was very awkward while she watched him eat. She didn't eat anything. He was starving, otherwise he would have refused. She might poison him, after all. But he decided that he still didn't have anything in particular to live for, so he might as well feed his stomach as well as his curiosity. She had made him some sort of soup. Given the state of the kitchen, he was pretty sure that was the extent of her culinary prowess. He wasn't partial to this kind of soup, but food was food. And he hadn't eaten in days. How many he wasn't sure. Surprising how the little things could be so hard to remember, even before losing his mind.

He finished eating quickly so he could ask her some questions. As soon as his bowl was empty, she swept it away and looked at him expectantly. He wasn't sure what she was anticipating him to say. "Who are you?" he asked.

She smiled. "Miss Ducard," she replied teasingly.

He frowned. "Yes, I know your name. But who are you? And how do you know who I am?"

"You're quite famous. Not to mention lucky I found you first. I doubt any of the other… interested parties would have been so kind to you," she told him.

"Kind?" he asked.

"They probably wouldn't have broken into Arkham to steal the antidote, not to mention get some of your stuff for you." She paused, then pulled something out of her coat pocket: his glasses. She handed them to him, and he put them on quickly.

"Thank you."

She smiled, then continued. "Probably would have just let you slip from sanity. But, me, I didn't want to have you wake up and be completely gone mentally. Especially as I probably wouldn't have gotten rid of you yet," she added.

"And what made you think that I was sane before getting a taste of my own medicine?" he asked with a small smile.

She shrugged. "Every little bit helps," she said, matching his smile, though she had a guarded look in her eyes.

His narrowed a little. "What do you plan to do with me?" he asked warily.

"I don't know yet. Depends on how you treat me, I think."

"What will you do when you decide?"

"You mean, what are my choices to do with you? Well, I could take you to the police, or to your asylum. I could let you go and let you figure out what to do. I could keep you here," she said with a grin. "Or I could take you to my brother in law," she added thoughtfully.

"Who is?" Jonathan asked.

Jeanette smiled brightly. "Your former boss, I believe. Ra's al Ghul."

He stared at her. "What?"

"You heard me," she replied.

"I thought he must be dead," he said to himself.

"Batman tried. But failed so far. However, from what I'm told, he's not very well off at the moment." She paused. "Did he tell you what he was planning?"

"No."

"Oh. Well, he was planning on destroying the city," she began.

"I know," he cut her off. She frowned at him. "I guessed," he explained.

She smiled. "Ah. Of course. And that didn't bother you?"

He shrugged and looked away. "Does it matter?"

"Yes."

"Well, then, it did a little. But there wasn't anything I could do about it. And I doubt he would have just let me go if I tried to back out." He frowned. "I suppose I could have tried to kill him," he added thoughtfully.

She laughed. He looked at her sharply. "It takes a lot to kill that one. Trust me, I've tried," she replied seriously.

He blinked at her in surprise. "Why?"

"Let's just say we have a difference in opinion," she explained.

"Oh." He frowned again. "Would you care to elaborate?"

"Not really."

"Ah." Jonathan thought about this for a few minutes. "Why doesn't he just kill you, then?"  
"Because sometimes I can be very helpful to him. When I choose to cooperate, that is," she added.

"And when do you choose?"

"When it's worth my while," she said, smiling.

"Ah," he said again. He wasn't sure he wanted her to elaborate on this. She laughed at his short response.

"Never assume, my dear. I just take cash," she explained.

He smiled slightly. "Of course."


	4. Don't Play

4. Don't Play July 20

After feeding him, Jeanette Ducard went to her desk. She swept up most of the papers off of it, and took them to her room. She closed and locked the door, leaving Dr. Crane to do what he wished. He took a book from her bookshelf, and sat down on the couch to read.

In her room, she carefully arranged the articles on her bed in an order only she understood. Then, she smiled, satisfied, at them. "Well," she said to herself, "might as well ask my dear brother about this doctor." She walked over to her nightstand and picked up the phone. She dialed the number, then let it ring a few times.

"Hello? Renee? It's Jenny." Pause. "Yes, yes, I know. I'm sure he's in a lot of pain, but this is important. Oh, fine." A longer pause. "Of course. I'm sure he's fine, sis. No, no, I'll call him later. No, I'd rather not. Okay, bye."

She hung up, then sighed. "Can't even trust my own sister these days," she said thoughtfully, then shook her head. She walked to her door, then stopped. She frowned. "I think I'll just stay in here a bit longer," she whispered. She turned back to her bed, and looked at the articles for a while. Then the phone rang, startling her.

"Hello? Glad to hear it, sir. I hope you feel much better soon. Yes, of course. What? Oh… I was just wondering what should be done with any of the inmates we find. Turn them in? Okay. What about the psychiatrist?" she asked carefully. "You don't know? Well, you should decide something. He's bound to turn up sooner or later." She laughed. "No, I haven't. But you'd be the first to know as soon as I do." She frowned. "I'm hurt. You think I would mess with you, my own brother? In law, yes," she added to his response. Then, she sighed. "I will, sir. Well, let me know when you decide. I'll spread the word. Okay, thanks. Bye."

She hung up and stared at the phone for a few minutes. "Figures. Now I have him, and I don't know what to do with him… Maybe I should ask the police what kind of reward they'd give… Or I could ask Batman," she added with a smile.

Then, she picked up the phone again. "Hello, may I please speak to Lieutenant Gordon? Thank you." She waited a few minutes. "Hello, James. This is Jenny. How are you? Good, good. So, have you rounded up all the inmates yet?" She smiled at his response. "Oh, you know me, James. I'm not an idealist. What's the reward for Crane?" she asked, getting right to point. "Really? Excellent. Well, I'll let you know if I find him. Thanks. Take care. Bye."

She smiled to herself. "Well, he's in good hands for the time being. Gordon will realize that I have him, I'm sure. But he can't find me, so it's nothing to be concerned over. The batman, on the other hand…" she trailed off… "He could be a problem. Hm… I think I'd better talk to Lisa," she said thoughtfully.

"Hello?" she said into the phone again. "Hey, Lisa. This is Jenny. What's up?" Pause. "That's cool. So, have you gone out with the billionaire again? Really? Is he as empty-headed as he seems?" She laughed. "Is he? Interesting… I don't suppose you could give me his number? Thanks!" She wrote down the number on an article. "So, business done, what's up with you?" She listened for a while. "Oh, no, not much. Just playing all the angles again. I know, it'll probably get me killed. But these things happen," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "This time? You know that Dr. Crane character? Yeah, well, he's in my living room." Lisa laughed. "No, really, he is. Yeah, I know, only I would do something like this. What's he like? Why, aren't you happy with your brainless billionaire? Well, yeah, sharing can be annoying. Anyway, trust me, the doctor is not your type. No, I don't think I have a type, but thanks for asking."

Jenny listened a little longer. "Yes, well, you're a socialite. Trust me, he's not. He's very quiet and cold." She laughed. "Yes, I'm sure you've seen pictures of him. He's better in person, trust me. But stick to your vapid rich men. They're what you want. This guy is brilliantly insane. You couldn't stand him for an hour," she said apologetically. She laughed again. "No, of course not. I could hardly play every angle if I were tied down. But never fear, precious. I won't be keeping him. You'll soon see a picture of him in the paper behind some bars or in a straight jacket." She listened for a moment. "Alright, I'll let you go. Remember, this conversation never happened. Good. See you at work. Bye!"

She hung up, shaking her head. "That girl would do anything for love. Poor thing. I'd best not invite her over for a while," she added thoughtfully, looking at her door.

After sorting the articles for another half hour, Jenny turned to look at the phone intently. "Well, I might as well give him a call. I'll just hope he can't trace it," she added with a sigh.

She lifted the receiver and dialed the number she had gotten earlier. Her hands were trembling. She'd never tried to talk to this batman character before. He was probably a little insane. But, thanks to her sister, she knew his history. She supposed that she would be messed up, too, if she'd watched her parents killed. But that would require having some parents, wouldn't it? she thought bitterly. However, he still seemed a little scary. Which was an odd thing to say, seeing as she had a madman sitting on her couch. But _he_ wasn't obsessed with bats… Why bats?

The phone rang once, twice. "Wayne's residence," a pleasant voice said. The butler, she thought.

"Hello. May I speak to Mr. Wayne, please?"

"What is the purpose of your call, miss?"

She smiled. "I thought he might be interested in me."

The voice on the other end radiated disapproval. "I'm sorry, miss, but he is not here at the moment. If you have a message, I could pass it along." Unspoken was the threat that she had better have something worth telling.

"Well, I was just wondering if the Batman was still searching for the Scarecrow."

There was a shocked silence. "Who are you?" the butler demanded.

"I may be a friend. For the right price," she added.

"One moment, madam," he said coldly.

Jenny smiled. "Easy," she whispered.

"Hello?" Bruce Wayne said. He didn't sound like the fool he pretended to be. Good.

"Hello, Mr. Wayne. How are you?" she asked, a little nervous. She spoke a little hoarser than usual to mask her voice.

"Dispense with the pleasantries, miss. Where's Crane?" he demanded.

"Patience," she replied, keeping the tremor from her voice. "What will you give me for him, should I find him?" she asked.

"You don't have him?"

"That's really none of your business," she replied.

"I'm not a twisted cop you can play to your advantage, miss. If you don't have him, then this conversation is over. If you do have him, then I'll do you the favor of taking him off your hands," Bruce said coldly.

Jenny suppressed a shiver. "What if I don't want him off my hands?" she asked, more to annoy him than anything.

"You can't be serious."

She laughed. "It's been a pleasure, Mr. Wayne. But I think I'll take my business to more interested parties. Say hi to Lisa for me," she added, to put him on edge, then hung up. Well, she thought, that didn't go as expected. I think I'll keep the bidding to the more reasonable men I already have connections with. I hate bats…


	5. Dead Because Maybe

5. Dead Because Maybe July 20

Jonathan stared at the book in front of him, not really seeing it. He had read it before, so he had trouble paying attention. That and the fact that the conversation in the next room was very distracting. It was, after all, about him. It would determine what she planned to do with him, which was rather important. Although he could only hear about one word in five, he could tell to whom she was speaking. She was shopping around for the best offer on his head. It was oddly flattering.

But what to do? He could run away. But he had no where to go. His apartment was in Arkham, so he obviously couldn't go home. She may have someone to keep him there as well. He hardly believed that she'd carried him herself here from… well, he didn't know the distance. He could have fallen off his horse right in front of her door, for all he knew. But somehow he doubted it.

Well, if he wasn't going to run away, what should he do? There wasn't really any hope in living much longer. If she called the police, he'd probably get the death sentence. Or he might be committed. Again. He doubted his fellow inmates would let him live long, after what he'd done to them. Provided any of them had been captured yet. He wished he had a newspaper. It would be helpful to hear what was going on. But the only ones he'd seen were now in her room. He frowned in that direction.

What was taking so long? How many people could possibly be interested in him? Well, that was vaguely satisfying, but he didn't like to wait. He was usually patient, but lately had grown more edgy about things. Maybe I should see a doctor, he thought bitterly. He hoped more fervently that he wasn't committed. He didn't think he could take the humiliation of being "treated" by his own colleagues, possibly even his own students.

Maybe he should just hope to die. It wasn't as though he'd had anything to live for in a long time. Come to think of it, he couldn't think of anything he'd ever had that would fall into that category. His childhood had been sad and lonely; just his mother and himself. The other kids at school had mocked him mercilessly. He hadn't realized it until recently, but he was pretty sure they had been frightened of him. Why? They had made him into the cold creature that so scared them. But no, that gave them too much credit. He'd cultivated that demon intentionally; it gave him power. And he'd reveled in that power for a while. But now… he wasn't sure he wanted it anymore.

What did he want, then? He didn't know. But there was no point in thinking of something. Soon he'd be dead, or worse. He didn't expect her to keep him long, since she had to go to the trouble of feeding him. So why hadn't she turned him in already? Surely she would be compensated by Ra's al Ghul.

Speaking of whom, what did he plan for Jonathan? Would he kill him? Or did he plan to have him work some more? But he was now much more replaceable than he had been. Now, he was merely a scientist. A mad scientist, no less. He no longer had a place of power in the city. The need to protect him from the police would probably not be outweighed by his contributions. So, they'd probably kill him. Drat.

Besides, did he even want to work for Ra's again? People thought Jonathan was mad, but he was nothing to the Demon's Head. The man saw himself as a savior of mankind, and had no problems with slaughtering people he deemed unworthy. _That_ was insanity. Perhaps experimenting on patients was also a form of insanity, but he thought it was less of a crime.

Why did I work for him in the first place? Jonathan wondered. Was it the money? Partially. He was very poor before. Was it the power? A little. He had been merely a psychiatrist who worked at the D.A.'s office. After, he had been the most influential person in his field. Lots of power in running Arkham. But was that really why? No. He knew why. But he didn't want to admit to it. It wasn't influence over the politics in the city that had attracted him to Ra's offer. It was the prospect of being in charge of the inmates. The prospect of ruling, like a king, his little asylum. And being able to terrify the thugs that had terrorized him as a child. That was why: revenge.

Maybe Ra's and I have more in common than I suspected, Jonathan mused. That was how he knew he could convince me to do whatever he wanted. He shook his head, smiling a little. The man is smarter than I thought. I should have taken the time to analyze him. Maybe then I would never have gotten into this mess. But where would I be?

After college, he had taught for a while. Until his license had been revoked, due to his unconventional teaching methods. Another license revoked, he thought bitterly. After that, he had worked in Gotham for the District Attorney. He supposed he would still be there, if not for Ra's. He would have been useless there. Perhaps he would have been drawn in to work with Falcone, as so many others had. Well, looks like that happened anyway, he thought. But he might not have been over his head as much if he had worked for the mob boss. "You can't change the past," he said to himself angrily.

But you can change the future, he added silently. So, how should he do that? He didn't know. He wanted to be free. Free from jail, from the asylum, from himself. Mostly from himself. But that was rather unlikely to happen. Most of his patients had felt rather lost at times. What had he told them? Oh yes, "you can only change how you react to things; you can't change other people." But how did that help him? It didn't. Not really. He wasn't trying to change someone else, he was trying to change himself. Which was a very difficult task; one in which few of his patients had ever succeeded. Usually, he just worked to convince them to come to terms with who they were, not change it.

"Well, that puts me in a dilemma," he said thoughtfully. "Foiled by my own advice. Ironic," he added.

Jonathan looked back down at the book. Where had he been? He couldn't remember. He snapped the book shut and sighed. Why was he wasting time here? Shouldn't he be making a plan while she was occupied? But one has to have a goal to make a plan. And he was lacking in both. Cursing quietly, he got up and went to the bookshelf. He scanned over the titles lazily, not really paying attention. Until something caught that attention. It was an unmarked binder, which looked like a scrapbook. He was reminded of the newspaper clippings.

Frowning, he took the scrapbook down and carried it back to the couch. He opened the cover, and looked at the first page. It was rather creative and messy, to him, with unrelated articles. He read all three of them. One was about a park opening downtown. Another was about a movie that had come out. The last was about his asylum. Odd. He couldn't find any possible relation between them. They weren't even from the same newspaper.

He turned the page, and found more articles. None of them seemed to have anything in common, either. He didn't have time to read them, however, because that was when Miss Ducard chose to leave her room.

"Good evening, Doctor Crane," she said pleasantly. Her eyes narrowed when she spotted him looking at her scrapbook. "Give me that," she said coldly.

He smiled. "Why?"

"Because it's not yours," she pointed out, snatching it from him.

He managed to keep himself from grinning as he noticed that she was frightened. Whether of him or of what was in the book, he didn't know. But she was clearly frightened. He grabbed her wrist, making her drop the book. She stared at him, eyes wide. "You really should be more polite," he admonished quietly. He ignored both voices that screamed in his head, one reveling in her fear, the other yelling "too close, too close!" He bent and picked up the book, giving it to her, fighting against the voices. She pulled herself from his grasp, and took a few steps away. He shelved the incident away in his mind, to dwell on her reaction later.

"I'll try," she said, but her cockiness was empty. She turned her back on him, and walked to the bookshelf. He was impressed that she would turn away. People who reacted with violence generally feared that others would do the same. She brought him back another book. "This should be more interesting to you." She cleared her throat. "Now, I must get back to work."

"At night?" he asked, looking at the dark windows.

She shrugged with forced nonchalance. "I get paid," she said matter-of-factly.

He frowned. "What exactly do you do?"  
She smiled a little. "A few odd jobs. At the moment, I'm off to be a waitress. Not the most glamorous job, but it puts food on the table," she explained. He said nothing. She shrugged. "Make yourself at home. But don't go in my room. There are towels and things in the bathroom. As well as some clothes that will probably fit you. Since I got them from your apartment," she added. "Just don't ask me to go back there. I don't know how you could stand it," she added, cocking her head at him.

"Why not?" he asked.

"Weren't you ever worried about any of the inmates trying to attack you while you were sleeping?"

He smiled a little evilly. "They were far more frightened of me than I ever was of them," he explained

"Ah… Well, I'll be back before morning. Don't wait up, darling," she added mockingly, suppressing a shiver.

"I'll try not to," he replied icily. With a smirk that lacked some its former luster, she left, pausing only to lock most of the locks behind her. He looked around, and decided to see what she had brought over from his apartment. The thought was disturbing, but he figured it worked out well enough. And it would be nice to change.


	6. Someday I will

6. Someday I will July 20

Jenny left her apartment, then walked down the rickety metal stairs. It seemed more like a fire escape than an actual entrance. She somehow managed to get up and down them even in high heels. She lived on the third floor, so getting down was quite a task. There were, as usual, no other lights on until she reached the ground floor. Her friend lived there. He was a thug, but had always been nice to her. He'd been a friend of her brother. Her real brother, not her sister's husband. But he'd vanished years ago. Probably to the bottom of the river, she thought bitterly.

Her friend, who's name was Eddie, was not home. He left his lights on all the time. He was actually her boss, so he was probably at work. He was the cook. Since Jenny knew very little about cooking, there had been quite a few times that she had eaten at Eddie's apartment. His wife was a pretty little thing, thought not the most brilliant. She also worked at the diner on occasion, so she probably wasn't at home, either. Jenny was alone, which made her a little nervous. But she pushed the feeling away as she walked to the metro station.

It wasn't long before she had ridden to her stop. She had left the Narrows behind, but wasn't in the best part of town. But that couldn't be helped. As soon as she reached the diner, she knew she'd be safe. She walked hastily there, careful not to look anyone in the eye. It was an old habit. She didn't want people to be able to recognize her later, even if she wasn't doing anything illegal at the moment. Best to remain anonymous.

Once inside the diner, she allowed herself to relax. She greeted her friends, including Lisa, who was looking at her a little oddly. She clearly hadn't forgotten this afternoon's conversation. But both of them set to work immediately. Whatever needed to be said could wait until it was time for a break.

It was nearly one in the morning before Jenny had time to take a break. "Busy tonight," she mumbled to herself. But it was nice to sit down for a while. There weren't any customers at the moment, anyway.

"Hey," Lisa said, sitting down across from her.

"Hey yourself," Jenny replied amiably.

"Can I talk to you?" Lisa asked, looking around. No one else was near them. They were in the kitchen, cleaning up and getting ready for the breakfast rush. Which was usually slow, but it was best to be prepared.

"I don't see why not," Jenny replied.

"Why do you do it?" Lisa asked quietly.

"Do what?" Jenny asked innocently.

"Work against everyone all the time. Wouldn't it be best to just turn him in to the police?" she pleaded.

"Easiest, yes. Best, no. Lisa, I've been watching this guy for years. He has great potential. I'm not going to just throw that away to the highest bidder. I want to know where he can be used the best," she said calmly.

Lisa shook her head. "I don't understand you," she said.

"Yes, you do. You do the same thing with dating. You try as many guys as you can, weighing your options. You weigh their wealth against their personality," Jenny replied. "You're brilliant at it. I do the same thing, just without using myself as the bargaining chip," she explained.

"But using yourself is usually safer," Lisa cautioned. "Your bargaining chip can't fight back if it's you."

"Very eloquent," Jenny said softly. "Yes, I suppose that's true. But I don't want to sell myself. You've known me for years, Lisa. You know how I am," she said tiredly.

"I do know how you are. And I know you don't want to share anything with anyone." Jenny opened her mouth to protest, but Lisa cut her off. "You don't! You just want to be alone all the time. I know you're upset about your brother and your parents, but you can't do anything about it."

"I'm not trying to."

Lisa sighed. "Okay, fine."

They sat in silence for a few minutes. "So, tell me about him," Lisa asked, winking.

"Oh, come on," Jenny said, laughing. "He's insane. Not to mention my prisoner. I can hardly afford to start thinking of him _that_ way," she explained, shaking her head.

Lisa smiled. "That's good. I was a little worried about you… So, what will you do with him?"

"I'm not sure yet. Gordon told me the reward, which is quite nice. But I'll wait for Ra's to think of whether he wants him or not, and what his price will be. I called the batman," she added, smiling at Lisa's shocked look.

"You what? You just go from psychopath to madman," Lisa said, shaking her head in disbelief.

"And you would do the same thing if their bank account was large enough," Jenny teased.

Lisa laughed. "Well, I'm considerably more marketable to them than an insane psychiatrist," she pointed out.

Jenny smiled. "That's true." Lisa was tall, blond, and beautiful by most standards. Jenny was about six inches shorter, and considered pretty on occasion. But this difference had never caused them to drift apart. Both took complete advantage of what they were given, and they got along well because of it.

"Speaking of which, how's Bruce?"

"I haven't seen him," Lisa replied, looking a little worried. "He's been busy, I guess. Rebuilding his house and all. He hasn't gone to any parties since his birthday," she added.

"Lisa, that was only two days ago. How many parties could there possibly have been?" Jenny demanded, shaking her head.

Lisa laughed. "Why, only two. There'd probably be more if people thought he'd come," she added.

"I don't know how you do it. Staying up all the time at parties, and working the rest of the time. I barely see you anymore," she added, shaking her head in mock disappointment.

Lisa smiled. "I know, I've been a bad, bad girl. But I don't know how you do it either. How will you sleep tonight? Maybe you should just tie him to a chair or something," she suggested.

Jenny laughed lightly. "While it would certainly put his straight jacket to good use, I think I'll just stick with locking my door and hoping for the best," she replied.

"Good plan. Well, you have me on speed dial if you need me. And Eddie will just be two floors below you. Don't hesitate to get either of us," Lisa said.

"I won't. I'm sure Eddie won't mind you volunteering him," Jenny added.

"He volunteers us," Lisa pointed out.

"Very true. Well, my shift's over. I'm out of here. See you tomorrow," she added, rising.

"Have a nice night," Lisa said, waving.

Shaking her head and smiling, Jenny left the diner. She wiped the smile off her face immediately and walked to the station, head down. Her ride home was uneventful, and she mounted the stairs once more. She paused to watch the sun rise on her balcony.

"Well," she said thoughtfully. "Another night over. How much longer will I work there?" she asked herself. "It's really not enough money to be worth the danger." She glanced at her apartment. "And I really should get a good enough job to move from here." She looked up into the sky. "Maybe this business venture will help that. Someday, I'm getting out of here. And getting a real job," she promised herself.

Then, she let herself in and walked silently to her room. She could make out Crane on the couch, presumably sleeping. She was careful not to wake him, since she was in no mood for confrontation right now. And the memory of him grabbing her wrist was a little scary. He has a surprisingly strong grip for one so slender. She walked a little closer, frowning at him. He looked completely different when he was asleep, she thought. Less threatening. Perhaps it was because his cold blue eyes were closed. When he was awake, she could see ruthless calculations behind those eyes. Now, he looked almost sane. Almost, she reminded herself.

She shrugged, then moved carefully across the tile to her room. She opened the door, and slipped in gratefully. After locking up, she sat down on her bed, and set about clearing off the various articles. "Time to sleep," she whispered. She changed, and crawled into bed. "I've got to get a better job. Or at least one that has different hours," she whispered as she began to doze off.


	7. Walk Away

7. Walk Away July 22

Days passed. Jenny went to work every day, and was gone more of the time. Jonathan read a lot, but did little else. He occasionally watched the news. Nothing particularly interesting was happening. Most of the inmates had been recaptured. He saw his own picture on the screen a few times, so people would recognize him. Bruce Wayne was rebuilding his house. Little else was happening that sparked his interest. There wasn't any news about Ra's al Ghul. Presumably, he remained anonymous.

One morning, Jonathan woke up soon after sunrise. Although he had been there for more than a week, he was momentarily confused as he tried to remember where he was. As soon as it came to him, he sat bolt upright, despite the discomfort this caused in his head. He let out a low moan, and looked around. He was alone, as far as he could tell. He assumed Miss Ducard was still in her room, probably sleeping. Who knew when she had gotten home.

He got up and went to the kitchen. After searching for a while, he managed to find some cereal for breakfast. He stared at it dubiously, then shrugged. He had eaten worse. He ate slowly, thinking. He was trying to figure out whom she would most likely give him to, and what his fate after that would be.

He had already mulled over what Ra's would do. Probably kill him. The police would either commit him or kill him, neither being a particularly desired outcome. But what about Batman? Presumably, he would turn Jonathan over to the police, but it was difficult to tell. He might just kill him. Since he obviously had committed the grievous error of attacking Miss Dawes.

Which begged the question of who this batman was. Clearly, he must have some connection with the Assistant D.A. But what else? He must have had some form of childhood trauma, Jonathan thought. Perhaps he did this for revenge. Maybe a loved one had been killed, and he was trying to get back at the murderer. Or prevent further death, at any rate. But none of that narrowed down the choices very much. Many people had seen the effects of the rampant crime in the city. And many of them would have access to the D.A.'s office.

Jonathan frowned. He was missing something, something important. What was it? Oh yes, his gadgets. From what he remembered of seeing the batman, he had quite a few toys that would be difficult for a normal citizen to get. This meant that either he was a hypocrite who had stolen things, or he was fabulously wealthy. Jonathan was pretty sure that the latter was more likely.

Now, what do I know about the privileged few? he wondered. He thought immediately of the recent return of Bruce Wayne. He was rich enough. And the fact that Batman had only started to appear a little after Wayne's return seemed like too much of a coincidence. Jonathan nearly laughed out loud. The famed Batman, known for being ruthless, brilliant, and perhaps a little mad, was none other than the most vapid man in the city. How clever, he thought. He had built up this personality to hide what he truly was. No wonder he no longer got along with his friends from before he vanished; he had actually been smart then.

Jonathan shook his head, smiling. Why didn't anyone else figure this out? Hmm… He wondered where, exactly, Wayne had been for those seven years. It was a long time to have mysteriously vanished, especially as he hadn't told anyone where he had gone. The media thought he had "gone to find himself," but they abandoned this theory when they saw how brainless he appeared to be. No one was guessing anymore.

He wondered how he could find out where the billionaire had gone. Somehow, he doubted Wayne would tell him. But perhaps someone else would… Who would know? Suddenly, Jonathan was struck with a thought. Miss Ducard called Batman, so she probably knows who he is. And if she does, she might know more about him. Intriguing. He wondered what her connections with the bat were. She didn't appear to be a friend, because she refused to watch the news whenever they talked about him.

He recalled that she also avoided news broadcasts about some other subjects as well. She avoided ones about the mob, and about women being attacked. Whether she evaded these out of fear or something else, he wasn't sure. Something to think on, he thought as he returned to the couch to read.

Jenny woke up and rolled out of bed. "I hate mornings," she mumbled as she got into the shower. Half an hour later, she felt much more awake. She was dressed and ready for a new day. Despite the fact that it was almost half over. "Time for breakfast," she said softly. She looked at the clock next to her bed. "Or lunch," she amended.

"Good morning, Dr. Crane," she said as she left her room. He was sitting on the couch, reading something.

He glanced up at her. "Good afternoon," he replied with a slight smile.

She shrugged, and made herself some cereal. After breakfast, she took out a piece of paper and a pencil. She busily began to write notes to herself, varying from her shopping list to the different things she could get from turning in Crane. She would be more trusted by whomever she turned him in to, but she still had to determine which person would be of the best advantage as a friend.

Finished, she put the pencil away and tucked the paper into her pocket. She pulled on her trench coat. Crane looked up at her expectantly. "I'm going out," she explained. "Again, make yourself at home."

"Thank you," he said calmly. She wasn't sure he was mocking her or not.

"You're welcome," she replied, frowning a little. She shook her head, and left.

Jonathan smiled. "Fascinating," he whispered. "She doesn't like me." He rose and went to her desk. Unsurprisingly, it was cleared of everything. After rifling around in the drawers, he found a hastily scribbled note.

Jenny,

Very important that you come see Ra's right away. He is so mad at you! He wants to know what you're trying to pull, turning in his best scientist for a reward to the police. He says that he'll have to get rid of you if you do it again, no matter how much you may mean to me. Please don't make him! I know he would kill you. Why can't you just work for him? He pays well. I know you don't like how he handles things, but you saw what happened to the last guy who said that. He has to go out of town for a while, so please come and see him beforehand. He says he may have found his secret weapon, and we'll finally be able to leave this place. Please come. I know you and I have never really gotten along, but I wouldn't like to see you in trouble with anyone. Maybe you should just go back home, and not get involved anymore. Come see us in the old warehouse, you know the one. We'll be there on Tuesday afternoon, don't be late! Love ya,

- Renee

"Interesting," Jonathan mumbled. "Very interesting." So, she made more enemies than friends in her bargains. Obviously, she didn't feel obligated to change just because she'd been threatened. Admirable, but foolish. He knew Ra's quite well. He was a little mad, and would do anything that was necessary. Scary. "I would never try to make him upset," he said softly. "That would be suicide." He smiled. "I think I like her," he added.

Suddenly, the phone rang. Jonathan jumped, and quickly shut the drawer without thinking. Of course, who ever was on the phone wouldn't know what he was doing, but it made him nervous. He walked over to the answering machine to listen.

"Jenny! Pick up the phone!" a female voice said. "Why won't you talk to me? Hmm… maybe you're busy," she said, laughing. "Well, call me back as soon as possible. I have some info on your doctor friend you might be interested in. By the way, if you're there Dr. Crane, my name is Lisa. I like piña coladas and getting caught in the rain. Give me a call, honey," she added, laughing again. "Well, call me, Jenny. I've gotta go. Bye!"

Jonathan continued to stare at the phone. "That was weird," he said. He blinked and shook his head. "Anyway, what did I learn from that? Nothing… oh well," he sighed. He looked around the apartment, wondering what else he should do while he had the chance.

Still no reason to run away, he decided. Besides, Miss Ducard is fascinating. I'd like to study her some more, he thought. He shrugged, and returned to the front of the apartment. He passed the bookshelf, and stopped, staring at it. He smiled coldly, and picked up the scrapbook she'd tried so hard to keep from him. "Know your enemies."

Jenny walked warily down the street to her apartment. She looked carefully at the man standing at the corner, wondering if she should run or not. He seemed to be staring at her. Trying to shake off her paranoia, she walked a little faster to the corner. Suddenly, he lashed out at her. He grabbed her by her trench coat and shoved her against the wall. She dropped her bag in the process, and, oddly, he bent to pick it up. While he was distracted, she kicked him in a delicate place and ran, grabbing her bag as she went.

She ran up the stairs, panting. Fumbling with her key, she tried to catch her breath. Hastily, she whipped open the door and slipped in, slamming the door behind her. Crane looked up at her in surprise. She took a deep breath, then walked to the kitchen where she set the bag.

"What happened?" he asked quietly.

"Nothing," she replied hastily. She missed the cold smile that followed her too quick response.

She glanced up toward the living room, then froze. He had her book again. She suppressed a sigh. Was it worth another confrontation? Yes. It was the only thing left of her parents. It was a scrapbook of articles they had written, and ones that they had liked. She didn't want him looking at it. Also, it had some more personal things in it that she would not allow him to see.

"Give that back," she said icily, walking over.

He looked up and smiled. "It's far too interesting. And you won't let me read a more recent newspaper," he added, looking toward her room. The look seemed to be conveying a vague threat, but she hoped she was just being paranoid.

She stiffened. "Please," she said, as amiable as she could manage.

He frowned a little at her, cocking his head as if studying her. She took that chance to snatch the book from his lap. With surprising speed, he leapt to his feet and grabbed her by the collar.

"Let me go!" she screamed at him.

Without expression, he swung her into the wall, pinning her hands to her sides.

"What are you doing?" she gasped, eyes wide with fear.

He smiled a little sadly. "You frighten easily, Miss Ducard. Especially when it comes to men," he said calmly, like he was discussing the weather. She stared at him. He leaned closer, and she closed her eyes. "But you don't have to fear me," he told her gently, his face far too near to hers. Then, he released her and returned to the couch as if nothing had happened.

She was vaguely aware that she was holding the book again. She clutched it to her chest and ran into her room.

Jonathan watched her go, frowning. Why had he done that? He wasn't sure. Well, he supposed the question about wanting to scare people had been answered. But he'd never done that without considering all the possible consequences of his actions. Or, at least, rarely. Now, he'd frightened the only person who didn't seem to want him dead. Not to mention felt obligated to feed him. Not very wise, he chided himself. Might as well leave at this point, he thought.

Or he could apologize, a voice in his head suggested. He blinked in surprise. Well, that would certainly be unexpected. So it might work. Women were very susceptible to that sort of thing. He decided, why not? The worst she could do was kick him out.

Jenny sat on her bed, glaring at the door. This just wasn't her day. Maybe Lisa was right. Maybe she should just give him to the police and be done with it. Gordon would appreciate that, certainly. But what would Ra's do? Well, in her defense, he hadn't made a decision. So she could hardly be expected to hold to his wishes when they were so ambiguous.

Suddenly, the phone rang. She picked it up without thinking. "Hello? Oh, hi, sir. It's good to hear from you," she drawled glibly. She listened for a moment. "Yes, sir, I'll be right there. It may take a few minutes, however. I have a few… loose ends to take care of. No, nothing to worry about. Say hi to my sister for me," she added. "Bye." She set the receiver back down and sighed. Then, she rose and put her shoes and trench coat back on.

Jonathan rose from the couch and was heading for the bedroom door when it opened. Jenny froze at the sight of him, but quickly regained her composure.

"I'm sorry," he blurted. He had hoped for some more time to plan this out and make it sound more convincing.

She frowned. "Now you're sorry?"

He cocked his head at her again. "Yes. Would I lie?"

"Probably," she replied coldly.

He frowned a little. "I'm sorry you feel that way," he said impassively.

She continued to frown at him. "What makes you think you have the right to ask that of me?" she demanded.

"Ask what? For forgiveness? Everyone has a right to ask. It is up to you whether you grant it or not," he replied matter-of-factly.

She stared at him for a moment, then turned around and walked back into her room. He watched her, wondering where she was going. She returned after a moment carrying something: his briefcase. He stared at it, uncomprehending.

"Here," she said, holding it out to him.

"Where did you get that?" he asked warily.

"I stole it," she said icily.

"Why?"

"Because I thought you might need it," she replied.

"For what?"

"Whatever you used it for before I found you."

He frowned, staring at the case. Then, he smiled. "I don't think so. You can keep it."

"Why would I want it?" she said defensively.

"I really don't know," he said with a shrug. "But you can have it if you like."

She sighed, and put it on the kitchen counter. Then, she opened it. "I have your mask, but there's only about one dose of fear gas left," she told him.

"That's okay," he maintained.

She stared at his briefcase, thinking. She glanced up at him, then back at the mask. He waited patiently. He had no idea what she might be thinking about. Well, he was pretty sure it had something to do with him, but didn't know beyond that.

"Well," she said softly. "That's interesting. Anyway, put on your shoes. We're going," she added.

"Where?" he asked, wondering if he'd failed some test he didn't know about. Women were odd that way. Although, it wasn't a subject about which he knew a great deal.

"To see Ra's al Ghul," she replied.


	8. And Say

8. And Say July 23

Jonathan followed Jenny out of her apartment and down the stairs. He paid careful attention to where he was, in case he had to find his way back. It was, after all, his first time outside of her home. He looked around at the bad condition of the neighborhood without comment. He'd seen worse. The neighborhood near Arkham, for instance.

She led him through a complicated labyrinth of streets without pause. Clearly, she'd been there before. Where ever they were going. He kept in mind where they were, especially when he saw a familiar sight. Soon, he was pretty sure he could find her apartment with little trouble from anywhere. Why he would need that information, he wasn't sure. It depended on the result of this interview.

Speaking of which, why had she decided now to take him? He remembered that she had gotten a call not long before. So perhaps that was a summons. But she hadn't told anyone she had him, so why was she taking him? He could only assume that she meant to turn him in. He didn't blame her. Moreover, there was no reason for her to put up with him anymore. Not after he'd attacked her. He hadn't really, but that's what she was probably thinking. Oh well, he thought a little sadly.

Finally, Jenny stopped in front of some warehouses. She looked around warily, then led the way down a narrow alley. He remembered that the note he'd found had talked about warehouses. Very cliché, he thought, for criminals to be meeting in warehouses. He would have smiled at the thought, but then she turned around.

"Okay, now, listen to me carefully. You're going to go up this fire escape and climb in that window on the second story. Just wait by the window. You should be able to hear us from there. You won't be able to see anything, but that should be okay. Right?" she pressed, sounding nervous.

"Of course," he replied, though he had no idea what she was talking about.

"Okay. Good. Don't make any noise. When you hear me leave, come back down the fire escape and meet me right here. Got that?" she asked.

"Yes." His eyes narrowed a little.

She sighed. "Good." She frowned at him for a moment. "What's wrong?"

"What are you doing?" he asked.

She smiled. "I'm going to go talk to Ra's about what he wants to do with you. He doesn't know I have you, but he might guess. So, he might have sent someone over to my house to check. So, you're safer here, as long as he doesn't realize how easy it would be to capture you," she explained.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked.

"Because I won't get anything if he just takes you while I'm gone. And you deserve to know what his intentions are for you. You know everyone else's," she added.

"Oh. Thank you," he said awkwardly.

She smiled and left. He shrugged, and climbed up to the window. He carefully crossed into the building, trying to be silent. He was on a platform of some sort. It was only a couple feet across. What its purpose was, he didn't know. There was a railing, so presumably it was used. Perhaps for inspection. He considered going to the edge and looking down, but decided against it. He might be seen. So, he sat down quietly to listen.

Jenny walked around the corner to the main entrance to the warehouse. She had been there many times before, but something was different about it this time. It was more somber, perhaps. Or maybe it was just her. She might be being unduly paranoid. Shaking her head, she knocked on the door.

It opened silently and she entered, never seeing the person who let her in. But she was used to that. She looked around. Fortunately, her eyes adjusted to the relative darkness quickly. It wasn't really that bright outside. There were boxes and crates everywhere. A few pathways through them, but the room was packed pretty well. She frowned, wondering how she was supposed to find Ra's in this mess.

"Hi, Jenny!" a familiar voice said, and she found herself wrapped in a hug.

"Hello, Renee," she said quietly.

"What took so long?" Renee asked, her beautiful face conveying a little worry.

"Just had a few things I had to do first," she replied with a wave of her hand.

Renee shrugged, then turned away. Jenny followed her sister deeper into the building, until they reached a sort of throne. It was mostly hidden by the boxes that surrounded it. A man was seated in it. He looked a little worse for wear. And he seemed to be dozing.

"Ra's, darling, wake up." Renee, of course.

He started, then looked sharply at Jenny. "Did you bring him?" he demanded.

"I don't have him," she replied slowly.

He frowned. "Oh, that's right," he said, but didn't seem like he believed her.

When he didn't seem to want to say anything further, she said "I just wanted to know what you would do for him. And what you'd pay," she added meaningfully.

"Not again!" he said sharply. "I won't let you sell off any more of my… employees," he continued.

"He's not yours," she replied calmly.

"Then who's is he?"

She smiled, shrugging. "I wouldn't know."

He glared at her while she continued to smile. "Fine," he grumbled. She noted that he was much less suave and conniving than usual. Must be because he's sick, she thought. Or dying. But that didn't appear to be possible. He'd lived for generations already, so it was unlikely he could be killed.

"Will you answer my questions, or shall I leave?" she said finally.

Ra's frowned at her. "I'll answer," he said. He paused, thinking. "Well, I suppose I'll pay more than whatever the police will pay you. As to what I'd do with him, I'll probably just kill him as soon as I get him. He's not worth anything to me anymore. But I don't want him running around town without anyone to keep him in line," he added. Jenny was struck with the thought of the extremely proper Dr. Crane acting like a small, wild child. She held in a laugh.

"I do want to see his execution personally. You can't trust lackeys these days," he continued sadly.

Jenny smiled. "I wouldn't know," she repeated.

"No? I suppose not," he replied. He put a hand to his forehead and frowned. "Is that all you have to say?"

"Yes, sir. Thank for you for your time," she said smoothly.

Ra's didn't reply, just waved his hand at her. She smiled, and turned away. She walked calmly back the way she had come. Once outside, she slipped around the corner to the fire escape. Jonathan was standing at the bottom of it, looking nervous.

"Shall we?" she asked. He smiled, but looked like he was thinking about something. She shrugged, and led the way back home.


	9. You Disappoint Me

9. You Disappoint Me July 25

Jenny sat at her kitchen counter, thinking. Jonathan was in the living room, lying on the couch. She didn't know if he was asleep or just reading. She didn't really care. She still had no idea what to do with him. Her brother was worse off than she had realized, and she was beginning to think he might not live through this. The thought was oddly terrifying. Although she didn't like him, she knew Ra's al Ghul was one of the most powerful people alive. The thought that one man had taken him down was disturbing.

She reflected that she was glad Jonathan had not seen Ra's, and the result of the latter's encounter with Batman. Jonathan seemed to be a little frightened of the batman, and she didn't want to make it worse. It was bad to frighten someone teetering on the edge of sanity. Not that she blamed him. He had been gaining power until Bruce Wayne had returned with a vengeance. She was scared of the man, too. He appeared to be a little off-balance, to put it lightly.

But that wasn't an immediate problem. What to do with Crane? That was the issue of the moment. Her options hadn't changed any, only her opinion. He was scary. But it seemed to be unintentional at times. She wondered if he had a split personality or something similar. Regardless, he was probably insane, and it was foolish of her to keep him here. The sooner he was gone, the better.

Except… except what? Except he didn't want to be the way he was any more than she did. Or, at least, he seemed to feel that way. But perhaps he was as good at being deceptive as she was. He hadn't shown any interest in getting his briefcase, and thus his weapons, back. But why? What did he plan to do without them? It wasn't as though he could go back to being a normal citizen. How could she figure this out? She smiled a little. I could ask him, she thought, shaking her head.

"Dr. Crane?"

He sat up and looked at her. "Yes?"

"May I ask you a question?" she said slowly.

He looked suspicious. "I suppose."

"If I let you go right now, what would you do?"

He frowned, considering. "I don't know," he said thoughtfully. "I guess I'd have to figure out how to be a man on the run."

She smiled. "But you have no plans or anything?"

"Not really."

"I see," she said. She looked back down at the counter.

Jonathan watched her for a moment, waiting. "Is that all?" he asked finally.

"What? Oh, yes. Thanks," she replied absently.

He shrugged, and returned to reading.

Well, that's odd, she thought. He had seemed like such a conniving person. If she were an outlaw, she was sure that she would have taken as much as possible to help her out. But he had refused. She didn't know what his motives were. She was usually so good at reading people. What had happened? Well, she supposed she'd never tried a psychiatrist. Certainly he would know how to make her think she understood him. However, he didn't appear to be doing very well.

Let's review what I know about him, she thought. He was the youngest person to ever be put in charge of Arkham. He had been trying to make a difference, then. So, what had happened to make him work for Ra's? She didn't know. It was probably important, but she wasn't about to pry into his personal life. What else did she know? He was nearly driven mad by his own toxin, as well as his fear of Batman. After that, he had ridden around terrorizing people until Rachel Dawes had shot him with a taser. He had fallen off his horse, and then she had found him.

But what had she learned since he'd been living with her? He didn't seem to be that insane most of the time. On two occasions, he had attacked her. What was similar about them? She had been aggressive first, she realized. Well, I'd better take note of that, she thought. What else? He had no real desire to leave. She figured that it was safe to assume he didn't want to work for any other crime bosses. But what else did he have? Nothing. Only a briefcase and a burlap sack to remind him of his former glory. Why choose that for a mask? Scarecrow, she thought.

Suddenly, it occurred to her that it wasn't the first time she'd heard of a scarecrow. Jenny leapt to her feet, startling Jonathan. "What is it?" he asked.

She ignored him, and rushed to her bookshelf. There, covered with dust, was her brother's old high school yearbook. She pulled it down, and flipped through the pages to the index. "Aha!" she said triumphantly. He stared at her blankly. "I knew I'd heard of you somewhere before," she explained, handing him the book.

He looked to where she pointed, and saw a picture of himself. He cringed a little. He'd had a black eye that day. Of course, he'd had black eyes most of the time, as it were. "Where did you get this?" he asked, mystified.

Smiling, she flipped the pages, and pointed to another picture. He stared.

"My brother. He told me about you," she said thoughtfully. "Everyone mocked you all the time. I felt sorry for you," she added softly.

"Funny, I don't remember you at all," he said, looking at her oddly.

"That's because I wasn't bothering you," she replied. "And I was… am a couple years younger than you."

"Ah." He was silent for a moment, staring at the yearbook. "Why did you say aha?" he asked politely.

"Because I knew I recognized you from somewhere. After you became the head of Arkham, and newsworthy, I started to pay more attention to you. But I could never figure out how I knew you."

"Well, now you know," he said emotionlessly.

"Yes, now I know." She bit her lip. She remembered him well. He'd been gawky and tall even then, and was tortured mercilessly for being "weird." She hadn't thought he was that odd, but he was certainly smarter than the rest of them. Perhaps that's why the other students had hated him. "I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"For what?" he asked, pulling away from his thoughts.

"For reminding you of how much high school sucked," she told him.

"And how does life differ now?" he inquired bitterly.

"You don't mean that."

"Yes, I do," he said tiredly. "I can't even go outside without being worried about someone recognizing me. It was the same then," he explained.

She sighed. He was staring at the ground, his jaw clenched as he remembered something. She felt bad for having reminded him, and even worse for not helping him sooner. When it might have made a difference. So, she did the only thing she could think to do. She leaned closer and hugged him. He stiffened in surprise. "I'm sorry," she told him. "But you can't change the past."

"I know," he replied, sounding a little disconcerted.

She could hear his heartbeat racing. How cute, she thought, he's scared of me. Smiling, she released him. "Well, I'm tired. I'll see you in the morning," she added.

"Okay," he replied quietly.

She went to her room, closing the door behind her. She leaned against it and let out her breath slowly. "There's no use for you to mull over the past, either," she told herself firmly. Then, she prepared for bed.

Jenny was standing on her balcony, thinking. She looked up and smiled at Jonathan. He smiled back, and stood next to her. He slid his arm around her waist, and she looked at up him. His bright eyes were hidden behind his dark hair. The shadows bit into his face beneath his cheekbones, giving them the appearance of jutting out. He leaned down and kissed her gently. Her arms slithered around his neck as he held her closer. Suddenly, she heard clapping.

"Bravo, Doc," a cruel voice said. It seemed to echo throughout her mind. Jonathan stepped away, looking a little sad, but mostly detached.

She whirled around, and saw a dark figure behind her. She couldn't see his face, but she knew who he was. Someone she hadn't seen in years, until today. She stepped back toward the railing. He stepped closer. "Where's your brother, Jenny? Where's your sister? Why have they left you with him?" he asked, pointing to Crane. She shivered, and drew as far away as possible. But he just kept getting closer.

She was screaming. Jonathan stood in her doorway, watching her nervously. Obviously, she was having a nightmare. He didn't know what to do. Waking her was his first inclination, but he wasn't sure that opening her eyes to see him was something she would prefer. None of his patients had ever been happy to wake up and see him. So, he remained in the doorway, indecisive.

"What do you want?" Jenny demanded.

"What do you think I want?" he replied, changing into the man who had attacked her earlier. She screamed. He stepped closer. "Can't you guess?" She kept screaming.

"Miss Ducard?" Jonathan said tentatively. He walked a little closer and tried again. "Miss Ducard? Jenny?" She writhed a little more, still screaming. He took a deep breath, and then walked up to her bed. He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. "Wake up, Jenny!"

She sat up, gasping for air. Her eyes widened in terror when they focused on his face, so close to hers. "Get away!" she whispered, pulling herself against the headboard of her bed. He moved away a little, sitting at the end of her bed.

"Are you okay?" he asked awkwardly.

She wrapped her arms around herself, shaking a little. "What do you think?" she demanded coldly.

He smiled grimly. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No!" she cried quickly. He looked surprised. Then, more calmly, "no."

He took a deep breath, then shrugged. "Very well," he said, rising.

She looked around the dark, empty room. "Wait," she said softly. She reached out and caught his hand. He looked startled. "Hold me," she whispered. He looked a little more surprised, if that's possible, but sat down next to her. Tentatively, he put an arm around her shoulders. She leaned against him, and he stiffened. Then, he forced himself to relax. He reflected that this was _way_ better than scaring her.

She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the memory of her nightmare. It was so real… but what did it mean? Or was it merely the product of a long, busy day? She didn't know. But it set her on edge. It occurred to her that she was having more and more nightmares since he had come here.

He looked down at her, then gently brushed the hair out of her face. He felt her tense as he lifted her chin. Her eyes widened in terror. "Get out," she murmured. He blinked in surprise. "Now!"

Without a word, he rose and walked out of her room, closing the door behind him. She put her face in her hands, and cried quietly. He sat down on the couch, thinking. He didn't know if she'd meant for him to leave her room, or her home entirely. With a shrug, he got up and gathered his things. No point in staying if he wasn't wanted. It occurred to him that he wanted to be, well, wanted. He'd repressed that feeling for a long time. "Can't have it resurfacing," he said resolutely. He got out a pad of paper from her desk and scribbled a quick note. Then, he took one of her keys. He let himself out, and locked up behind him. "Goodbye," he said to the door. With that, he went down the stairs, though he didn't know where to go.

Jenny looked up sharply as she heard the door open. What's he doing? It closed and she waited, confused. He's left, she thought numbly. Oh well.


	10. Maybe You're Better Off

10. Maybe You're Better Off July 27

_**Little angel, go away**_

Jonathan Crane sat in a small café. It was in the Narrows, and not a particularly good part of the Narrows, either. But he figured it would be hardest for him to be recognized here. The small amount of cash he had on him wouldn't last long. He reflected that he would soon have to find some way of making money. Probably not anything legal, he added sadly. He couldn't afford to be seen by law-abiding citizens.

Shaking his head, he looked up at the dark windows. They were quite dirty, but he could see some of the street and the people on it. He froze as he recognized a familiar form. Jenny. He turned away from the window. He didn't want to be seen by her, either. He didn't need her. He didn't need anyone. "Eye on what I'm after, I don't need another friend," he told himself.

_**Come again some other day**_

On second thought, she could be very helpful. She was clever, not to mention well-connected. She managed to be the friend of most of the criminal underworld as well as of the police without making anyone hate her. That was indeed a feat, he thought. But no matter. He had no intention of asking for help from anyone.

Perhaps later, he decided. Later, when he had made a name for himself once again, he might go find her. Or perhaps not. He didn't know. The future was not of pressing importance. It was best to find someone who would hire him now, not daydream of what he would do after that. It was pointless. "Clever got me this far, then tricky got me in."

**_The devil has my ear today_**

"Hello, Mr. Zsasz," Jonathan said to the man sitting at the bar next to him.

"Hey, Doc. How'd you escape?" the man asked.

Jonathan smiled. "Never mind that. You said you could find a job for me with your boss, didn't you?" he asked.

"Yeah, I think so. But we'll have to ask him. He might just want to get rid of you," he replied, laughing.

Jonathan forced his smile to remain. "Let's hope not."

The criminal shrugged, putting a slip of paper into his pocket. "I'll give this to him. He knows where to find you?" he asked.

"No. But you do. I'll be here every evening until I hear from you."

"Sure thing, doc," the man replied, rising. Jonathan watched him leave the bar, wondering what he was doing. Working for the new mob boss didn't seem very wise, especially since he could barely hold onto his power.

"Time to feed the monster, I don't need another friend," he mumbled to himself, as he rose to leave.

**_I'll never hear a word you say_**

Jonathan sat in a different café. It was morning, early. He didn't want to be noticed as being in the same place all the time, in case anyone became interested. He was sleeping in a warehouse most of the time, and making do as best he could. He didn't know how heroes in stories did this sort of thing all the time. It was rather difficult.

"Lisa! Get over here!" the cook called to a waitress.

Jonathan started, looking at the woman who answered the call. Could be the Lisa I know, he thought. That's my cue to leave, he decided, rising.

"Leaving so soon, sir?" the waitress asked, coming up behind him. Apparently, she'd finished talking to the cook.

"Yes," he began, then stopped when he saw how she stared at him. "What?"

"Dr. Crane," she whispered. "She was right… you should go back," she added.

"I can't," he replied sharply

"Why? Wouldn't you be happier there?" she demanded.

Jonathan snorted, and left. He smiled a little as he listened to the song playing in the background. "Comfort is a mystery, crawling out of my own skin. Just give me what I came for, then I'm out the door again."

**_He promised I would find a little solace_**

Back in the bar, Jonathan sat quietly, trying not to draw any attention from the staff. He didn't have any money left, and he doubted that they would let him stay if they knew. He glanced around, hoping that Mr. Zsasz would hurry up. He didn't know how much longer he could take this life on the run. Maybe the boss would just kill him. It would be a relief.

"Hey, doc," a voice said behind him.

"Ah, Mr. Zsasz. Glad you could make it," he said softly.

"What, nothing to drink for you?" He laughed. "You won't have to worry about that much longer, doc. Got good news for ya," he continued.

**_And some piece of mind_**

Jonathan sat in what he considered to be his warehouse, holding a note. He hadn't opened it yet. He didn't know if he wanted to know what the boss wanted. He felt like he stood on the threshold. He could throw the note away, and try something else. He could turn himself in, he supposed. Or he could read the note. And work for a criminal again. What had happened to make those his only decisions? Hubris.

With a sigh, he opened it. It guaranteed him a job of power, similar to his old one. He would not be able to work at Arkham, but the boss assured him that he could get him another identity to work somewhere out of Gotham. Provided he helped out the man whenever need be. He shook his head, staring at the paper. He knew what that meant. And he didn't want to help him. But what to do? "Lie to get what I need," he thought.

**_Whatever, just as long as I don't feel so_**

Standing in an ally, Jonathan stared intently at the apartment. It had been over a week since he had lived there, but he had come back a few times since then. He was careful to stay in the shadows, and avoid being seen. He wondered why he was acting like this. He'd never had any doubt of what to do next before. Why were all his goals gone? Maybe because none of them involved being wanted by half the city, he thought bitterly.

He heard footsteps approaching, and quickly hid in a side street. He stayed there a few minutes thinking. Well, he couldn't live in the past anymore. He had to move on with his life, he decided, and turned away. He would go find someone to take him to the new boss. Days later, he still hadn't found any criminals he thought he could trust. He had recognized a couple, but they were lucky to be sane at the moment, and wouldn't be too happy to see him. He sighed as he walked past the bar he had frequented for a while. But they realized he was broke, and wouldn't let him in. He looked anyway, hoping to find someone he knew. He did. But not who he wanted.

_**Desperate, ravenous, so weak and powerless over you.**_

_**And I listen for the whisper of your sweet insanity,**_

Jenny sat in her living room. She was holding a slip of paper in her hand. She had read it twice already. She looked down at it again.

Dear Miss Ducard,

While I did enjoy my stay, it has come to my attention that I have remained longer than was wise. I doubt we will meet again. To tell the truth, I'm afraid I have broken the most important rule in my profession. Never get involved. I fear you have committed this transgression as well, so I must go. Farewell.

-Jonathan

She sighed a little, tossing the note away from her. She turned on the TV and stared at it for a while. It occurred to her that she had turned off the sound, and was waiting to hear something. She shook her head, and turned the sound back on.

_**While I formulate denials of your affect on me.**_

"I told you already, I'm fine," Jenny said irritably.

"You've done nothing but mope lately. What's up?" Lisa asked.

Jenny frowned, and turned away. "Leave me alone."

"Why? Why won't you talk to me anymore?" Lisa asked. "I thought I was your best friend," she said, frowning in mock anger.

Smiling a little, Jenny shook her head. "I thought you were too," she replied.

Lisa laughed. "That's much better," she said when Jenny joined in. "So, what happened to not having a type?" she teased.

Jenny shrugged. "I still don't. Probably just temporary insanity," she explained. Lisa smiled.

**_You're a stranger, so what do I care?_**

Jenny paced her apartment. She hadn't been able to hold still for days. "What's wrong with me?" Sighing, she forced herself to sit down at her desk. She started to arrange the magazine clippings that she had moved back there. But then she came across the article about Arkham. She glared at it, and tore it savagely in half.

Then, she leapt to her feet. "Why did I do that?" she wondered aloud. "I must be crazy… you don't even know him," she chided herself. She shook her head, and walked out the door again.

**_You vanish today,_**

Jenny was walking home. It was late. She looked around nervously. She kept a careful watch on all of her surroundings. It was stupid to let her guard down just because she had other things to think about. And she had a lot to think about. The new mob boss was really bothering Eddie, and she didn't know how much longer their little café would last without "protection."

Suddenly, she saw something in the shadows. A person. He, or she, slid away quietly into another alleyway. She walked a little faster, wondering why the silhouette was so familiar.

_**Not the first time I hear all the lies**_

Jenny sat on her couch again. She had to go to work in a few minute, but she couldn't bring herself to move. She was tired and felt like she hadn't slept in days. Which she hadn't. The phone was ringing, she realized. She answered it.

"Hello? Oh, hi, Lisa. Yeah, I'll be there. I know, I'm hurrying," she said irritably. She hung up and sighed. She rose, and caught sight of the note on the floor. It had been there for a while. She frowned at it. "Got attached, did you? Heaven forbid," she snarled at it. "Like I've never heard that before," she grumbled, walking away.

_**What am I to do with all this silence?**_

"It's so quiet at home," Jenny told Lisa. "Maybe you could come over for a while?" she asked tentatively.

"I have a better idea. Why don't you come stay with me for a couple days?" Lisa said gently.

"Why?"

She sighed. "Because you're not happy."

"And your house is just paradise, I take it? No thanks," Jenny replied, shaking her head. "I wouldn't want to inconvenience you," she said politely. With that, she stalked away. Home wasn't bad. Just a little lonely nowadays. Why hadn't she noticed how lonely it was before? Maybe she had just forgotten. That must be it.

**_Shy away, shy away, phantom, run away, terrified child _**

"You know, he was here the other day," Lisa said quietly. It had been days since their fight. She was glad that Jenny had returned to work. She worried about stepping on such dangerous ground again, but hoped to make things right soon.

"Who?" Jenny asked, feigning nonchalance. But Lisa noticed the way her shoulders tensed.

"Crane. He was here. He left as soon as he realized who I was," she added.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing. That is, I told him to come back," she added truthfully.

"You what?" Jenny demanded.

"I thought it might help if you guys talked a little. I didn't mean-"

"I'm sure you didn't," Jenny said tiredly. "Whatever. I have to go."

She walked home, leaving the bright lights of the café far behind her. Every where she looked, she thought she saw someone in the shadows. "Get away," she whispered to the apparitions only she could see.

**_I'm better off without you, tearing my will down_**


	11. This Way

11. This Way July 28

Jenny walked up the stairs to her apartment. Lisa had joined her. Both were carrying a bag of groceries. Lisa had promised to stay a little while, and threatened to eat Jenny out of house and home. But she thoughtfully suggested they pick up something on the way home. Jenny was just glad to be going home at last. She hoped that Lisa would help her to drive away the ghosts of the past.

"Well, here we are," Jenny said, unlocking the door.

"I have been here before," Lisa said with a smile.

"I know. But I thought you might get lost again, like you did when you were house-sitting for me," Jenny replied with a grin.

"Hey, I'd only been here once before! Besides, you're not one to talk. You gave me the key to your old apartment. I'm glad I have the right one now," she added, looking thoughtfully around the room. "Hold this, I'll be right back," she said, shoving her bag into Jenny's arms.

"Hey! Now I can't see," she said with mock disapproval.

"Let me take those," a completely different voice said. It was good that the hands attached to the voice followed through, because Jenny promptly dropped both bags.

"Jonathan?" she gasped, turning to look at him. He set the bags on the counter, and turned back to her. He looked terrible. His hair was messy and there were dark circles beneath his eyes. His suit was in tatters and he looked like he hadn't eaten in days. Or slept, for that matter. But then he smiled at her. Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around him. He was thinner than she remembered. She saw Lisa looking very smug behind him.

"See, I told you that you guys needed to talk," she said happily.

"You could have warned me," Jenny replied, stepping back, feeling awkward.

"And ruin my fun? No," Lisa replied. "Well, I'll leave you two alone," she said, walking to the kitchen.

Jenny looked at the ground, feeling suddenly embarrassed. Jonathan just looked at her. "So, um, what have you been doing the past couple weeks?" she asked to break the silence.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" she asked, looking up.

He smiled. "I would have preferred to do something, but I couldn't. So Lisa convinced me to come back here for a while," he added quietly.

"Oh. Why?"

He looked surprised. "Why did she convince me, or why did I agree?"

She smiled. "Both."

"Ah. I couldn't tell you why she sought me out to get me back here." He looked around. "I suppose I agreed because I have nowhere else to go," he offered.

She frowned. "Oh."

They were silent for a few minutes, looking at the floor. Lisa came back and seemed very amused by this. "While I'm sure you've never seen these tiles before, dinner is ready, if you're hungry."

The three of them ate in the kitchen. Thanks to Lisa, it was a very light-hearted meal. She managed to make them all laugh a few times. When it was finished however, both Jenny and Jonathan were fidgeting a little.

Lisa smiled at them, obviously pleased about something. "Well, you guys have a nice night. I'll see you tomorrow, Jenny."

"What?" both of them said quickly.

This made Lisa smile more. "What? There's hardly enough room for all of us to stay here… and this is better than where I found you, Jonathan, so I can hardly kick you out," she said with a smirk.

"I thought you were going to stay with me for a while," Jenny said, hoping she didn't sound hysterical.

"No, I told you that I'd make sure you weren't lonely. Now, you are my best friend, but I have a party to go to. I would invite you, but somehow I think the doctor here would have to decline. So, I must go," she finished.

"Oh. Okay," Jenny said numbly. She and Jonathan carefully avoided looking at each other. Lisa was inclined to gloat all the way out the door. "Well, I guess it's just you and me again," Jenny said conversationally.

"I suppose."

"Ahem… I hope you still find the couch comfortable."

"Compared to what I'm use to, I'm sure it's fine," he replied.

She smiled. "Of course. Good night."

"Good night."

The next day, Jenny woke up in a good mood. She had slept soundly for the first time in weeks. It was nice. She showered and dressed, then went out for breakfast. Jonathan was still asleep on the couch. She wondered if he'd slept at all since he'd been gone. She decided to be quiet while she made breakfast.

An hour later, she was in her room, reading. The phone rang. Sighing, she answered it. "Just as I was getting to the good part. Typical. Hello? Oh, hi, Lisa. Yes, you're very cruel to me. What do you want? No, of course not!" she said sharply. Lisa laughed. "Yeah, well… Sure, I guess I could come see you. But it's a long walk. And taxis are rather expensive. It's that important? Okay. I'll be there soon," she finished.

After hanging up the phone and putting her bookmark in, she went out into the apartment. Jonathan was reading on the couch. "Good morning," she said.

"Morning," he replied, sounding distracted.

"Well, I hate to rush off like this, but Lisa just called. She said it was important, so I must run."

He glanced up at her. "Oh." He paused. "She lives in a bad part of town. Are you sure you want to go there alone?" he asked.

She paused to consider. "I guess you could come. She didn't say anything about what sort of emergency it was," she added. "Let's go."

It wasn't an emergency at all. Not really. Lisa was a little nervous about a man who had been hanging around her apartment, but said she would have called Eddie if she were concerned. Her real reason for calling she said simply that she was feeling lonely. Beyond that, she didn't say anything. But Jenny was used to her being a little skittish. And she could understand her friend's loneliness. They spent the day there, mostly watching movies. Most of the movies were ones that the two ladies loved, and were shocked Jonathan had never seen. What he thought of them, he didn't say.

That evening, Jenny and Jonathan stood on a street corner. She was attempting to hail a cab, but none seemed to be answering. Finally, one stopped for them. Smiling, she climbed in. Before he could follow suit, it had started to drive off, driving fast.

"Hey!" Jenny said. Then she took in who the driver was. She started to scream.

"Stop that noise or I'll stop it myself," he growled.

"What are you doing?" she asked carefully.

"What does it look like? Kidnapping you. The doc didn't accept Boss's order, so he said I could have you," Victor Zsasz said, smiling evilly.

"Did he really?" she asked faintly. "Well, I'm afraid we've passed my stop." She pulled out a can of pepper spray and hastily made use of it. Although she couldn't do much damage at this angle, she was able to distract him long enough to jump out onto the curb. She rolled, then took off running.

It occurred to her that she didn't know where she was. No matter. Though this street was deserted, perhaps there would be someone to help her nearby. And there was Jonathan. Hopefully, he was following her. She glanced back, but saw only Zsasz. She cursed silently, and kept running.

It was dark. She could hardly see where she was going. And she was lost. This doesn't bode well, she thought, trying to keep herself distracted. But she realized that Zsasz was gaining on her, so she succumbed to terror. It made her flight much faster. Unfortunately, being lost made her take a wrong turn. Dead end. She swore loudly, looking around for a way to escape before she was trapped.

"Looks like the doc can't keep up with us, can he?" a menacing voice behind her said.

She sighed, holding in her fear. "Come on, Victor," she began.

"I'd love to," he replied. She gulped audibly.

She reached into her purse and pulled out a revolver. "Get away," she said sharply. He grabbed her wrists and shoved her against the stone wall. This caused the gun to go off and she dropped it. She screamed in desperation.

"Did you really think that would work?" he demanded. She closed her eyes as he leaned closer.

Then, suddenly, there was a muffled noise and he wasn't on her anymore. She opened her eyes. Zsasz was on the ground, and Batman stood over her. She cried out in surprise, and stepped away from the wall and from Batman. Unfortunately, she tripped on something, and fell backwards. Jonathan caught her. She didn't know when he had arrived.

"Shh…" he whispered. "Pretend you fainted."

"What?"

"Just do it," he hissed. Then, he looked up and smiled. "Let him go, Mr. Wayne."


	12. Epilogue

12. Epilogue July 28

"And that pretty much brings us up to now," Crane finished. He looked apprehensively at Bruce.

The latter sighed, letting the air out slowly. What he was about to do would probably make him lose sleep, and he was sure he'd regret it. Eventually. "Okay. I'll let you go. For now. But, you have to stay here where I can find you," he added in a growl.

Crane smiled. "Of course." Then, he looked toward the rest of the apartment.

Bruce looked up, realizing that Jenny had entered the room. She didn't appear to be frightened of him at all. Odd, he thought.

"Thank you," she said softly.

"You're welcome," Bruce replied awkwardly.

"Could I speak to you for a moment… outside?" she asked hesitantly.

His eyes narrowed. "I suppose," he said guardedly. He rose and followed her out onto the stairs. She looked around nervously, then turned to face him.

"Here," she said, handing him a slip of paper.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Information. On the Joker. As payment for letting him stay. Also, I must warn you that Ra's al Ghul is still alive," she said slowly.

Bruce looked at her for a moment. "Thank you. May I ask you something?"

"I suppose."

"Why do you want him to stay with you?"

She smiled. "That is none of your business, my dear. Now, off you go. I'm sure you have some crime-fighting to do. Don't worry. I'll keep him sane," she said.

Bruce sighed. "Very well. Goodbye."

"Farewell, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce smiled a little, then left. He decided he'd better make sure nothing happened to her. Better keep tabs on her and Crane, to ensure they fulfilled their promise. That was, however, the only time Bruce ever saw her. He saw Crane many times afterward, however. But not for a few years.

_Five Years Later_

Bruce Wayne sat in his living room, reading the paper. The obituaries. He caught sight of a name he remembered. "Oh no," he whispered. "Alfred! Get my coat. I must go right away," he called, standing.

Ten minutes later, he was at the cemetery. He looked around, wondering. Then, he saw a familiar form standing at the far end. Dr. Crane. Alone, of course. He was standing over a new grave, staring down at it with his heartless, and slightly maniacal, blue eyes. He looked up, and spotted Bruce. He smiled his familiar, closed smile. Bruce was silent. He thought of a million things he could say, but none of them seemed appropriate.

"You killed her, you know," Crane said softly. "You, with your fast car chases with other criminals you've created to satisfy your need for revenge," he continued. He didn't say it as an accusation, just kind of tiredly.

"But as long as you're happy, of course. We can't have madmen running around, can we? The black bat has to chase them down," Crane murmured, anger coloring his speech only a little.

Jonathan looked up at Bruce. "It will come back to haunt you, you know. You can't live like this for long. The guilt will eat you alive," he hissed. He turned, and walked away. Bruce watched him go. Then, he looked at the grave. She was only thirty.

Bruce looked back up at the doctor's retreating back. How could this be? What had happened that had killed her? Was it really his fault? 

_...  
_

A month later, Bruce went to investigate an attack on the University. He hoped, desperately hoped, that it was a new psycho he had to take care of. But he'd already heard the report. About the fear gas that was used. He knew who it was. And that he had created this monster. Or at least recreated him.

Still, he had to capture him. Had to put him back in Arkham, where he could be safe from himself. But it would be harder than with the other criminals. He knew that. So, why did he feel glad half an hour later when the Scarecrow was unconscious at his feet? The man was insane. More so than he had been. Grief had not treated his mind well. Bruce sighed, and looked down at him. He removed the mask, and saw a familiar face. He looked almost the same as he had when he had been carrying Jenny gently in his arms.

Jonathan Crane sat tied to a chair, once again wearing a straightjacket. He smiled sadly as he looked around the room. This used to be his little kingdom. Now, it was his prison. Life is odd that way, he reflected. There were footsteps approaching. His smile broadened. No one ever came to see him. Who would want to? 

"Hello, Mr. Wayne," he said pleasantly as the door opened.

"Crane," was the only reply. Bruce walked in, closing the door behind him. He regarded the prisoner.

"Scarecrow," the latter corrected.

"You don't have to be."

"Yes, I do. Don't be naïve, Bruce," he snapped.

"I'm sorry you find it so distressing," Bruce replied tiredly.

Crane turned away, focusing instead at the wall. When he looked back up, Bruce was gone. That was okay. He didn't want to talk to him anyway. The light above his head flickered, sending bizarre shadows throughout the room. Some taking shape into recognizable objects… "Bats," he hissed, closing his eyes. "Jenny was scared of bats," he reflected sadly. He could see her face in his minds eye, as she was lowered into the ground. She looked so peaceful…

A/N Hope you all enjoyed the ending... I hope I managed to wrap up all the loose ends. Thanks for reviewing!


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